Read Online The Man Who Spoke Snakish by Andrus Kivirähk - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrus Kivirähk
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doubted a bit that that treasure was somehow noteworthy. With Meeme, though, it could only be the caprice of a drunk. He’d found some old ring somewhere, wrapped it in a bit of leather, and slipped it to me. And now he was sniggering like a jaybird at me putting the ring on my finger and hoping it would lead me to the Frog of the North.
So for a start I sought out Uncle Vootele and said to him: “Tell me about Meeme.”
“Why are you suddenly interested in him?” wondered Uncle Vootele. “Did he offer you wine? You mustn’t drink that; it makes your head swim.”
“He didn’t. Or actually he did, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t take mushrooms either. Tell me who he is! Why is he always lying on the ground and never walking?”
“Oh, he does walk; he doesn’t always loll around in one place,” said Uncle Vootele, fingering his beard. “Look, Leemet, Meeme is a strange person. In his day he was a great warrior, brave and strong. He should have led that battle in which your grandfather was killed. But Meeme didn’t want to go into that battle. In his opinion it was a terribly stupid idea—to fight the iron men with their own weapons. Even the wolves were left at home, and we walked on foot to the battlefield, where the iron men smashed us to a pulp with ease. Meeme could foresee this, and said that such warfare was madness. But no one listened to him.”
“Why?”
“Because many thought the iron men were cleverer than us. They secretly admired their coats of mail and shiny swords, even though they were marching to war against them. They thought that riding on wolves and fighting in the thickets was outmoded and senseless, and that no modern army fights like that. When Meeme explained to them that we ought to stick to our own ancient weapons, many people confirmed that such a tactic was downright suicidal. “We should learn from developed peoples,” they said. “And if the iron men fight on an open field and without wolves, then that is more correct and efficient. They must know what’s good! After all, they sailed here fromfaraway lands! We should learn from them, not go into battle like some primates. We shouldn’t bring the name of Estonians to shame like that! Let the iron men see that we too know how to fight like humans! We aren’t one iota worse than any other nation! And so they went to war on foot, without wolves, and took with them the weapons they had seized from the iron men. And naturally they were defeated. Apart from my father, no one came off that field alive, and he was saved only by his fangs, the most ancient weapon, one that has now totally disappeared from human mouths.”
Uncle Vootele picked a fiber of meat from between his teeth, swallowed it, and carried on talking.
“Then Meeme started battling the iron men single-handed, and he didn’t use a sword or a spear, but good old Snakish words, which drove all the animals crazy. They went on an enraged attack against the iron men, when Meeme simply gave the command. He conducted his own battles at the edge of the wood, ambushing iron men who had strayed there. Wolves leapt on the iron men from among the trees and dragged these foreigners into the thickets, where Meeme chopped them to bits with a good old ax. It certainly wasn’t the sort of war that the iron men like to wage, and it was far from modern, but very effective. The iron men feared the forest like fire, for they knew that death lay in wait there. And they couldn’t avoid the forest—they had to ride past or through it—and many of them didn’t come out the other side. You can only imagine what we could have achieved if all men had acted like Meeme and slaughtered the foreigners in the forest with the aid of Snakish words and wolves, instead of riding onto the open battlefield. Meeme alone did the work of ten men, but even that didn’t break him.
“But even though Meeme fought like a madman and chopped at the iron men like lightning, that did nothing to stop
So for a start I sought out Uncle Vootele and said to him: “Tell me about Meeme.”
“Why are you suddenly interested in him?” wondered Uncle Vootele. “Did he offer you wine? You mustn’t drink that; it makes your head swim.”
“He didn’t. Or actually he did, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t take mushrooms either. Tell me who he is! Why is he always lying on the ground and never walking?”
“Oh, he does walk; he doesn’t always loll around in one place,” said Uncle Vootele, fingering his beard. “Look, Leemet, Meeme is a strange person. In his day he was a great warrior, brave and strong. He should have led that battle in which your grandfather was killed. But Meeme didn’t want to go into that battle. In his opinion it was a terribly stupid idea—to fight the iron men with their own weapons. Even the wolves were left at home, and we walked on foot to the battlefield, where the iron men smashed us to a pulp with ease. Meeme could foresee this, and said that such warfare was madness. But no one listened to him.”
“Why?”
“Because many thought the iron men were cleverer than us. They secretly admired their coats of mail and shiny swords, even though they were marching to war against them. They thought that riding on wolves and fighting in the thickets was outmoded and senseless, and that no modern army fights like that. When Meeme explained to them that we ought to stick to our own ancient weapons, many people confirmed that such a tactic was downright suicidal. “We should learn from developed peoples,” they said. “And if the iron men fight on an open field and without wolves, then that is more correct and efficient. They must know what’s good! After all, they sailed here fromfaraway lands! We should learn from them, not go into battle like some primates. We shouldn’t bring the name of Estonians to shame like that! Let the iron men see that we too know how to fight like humans! We aren’t one iota worse than any other nation! And so they went to war on foot, without wolves, and took with them the weapons they had seized from the iron men. And naturally they were defeated. Apart from my father, no one came off that field alive, and he was saved only by his fangs, the most ancient weapon, one that has now totally disappeared from human mouths.”
Uncle Vootele picked a fiber of meat from between his teeth, swallowed it, and carried on talking.
“Then Meeme started battling the iron men single-handed, and he didn’t use a sword or a spear, but good old Snakish words, which drove all the animals crazy. They went on an enraged attack against the iron men, when Meeme simply gave the command. He conducted his own battles at the edge of the wood, ambushing iron men who had strayed there. Wolves leapt on the iron men from among the trees and dragged these foreigners into the thickets, where Meeme chopped them to bits with a good old ax. It certainly wasn’t the sort of war that the iron men like to wage, and it was far from modern, but very effective. The iron men feared the forest like fire, for they knew that death lay in wait there. And they couldn’t avoid the forest—they had to ride past or through it—and many of them didn’t come out the other side. You can only imagine what we could have achieved if all men had acted like Meeme and slaughtered the foreigners in the forest with the aid of Snakish words and wolves, instead of riding onto the open battlefield. Meeme alone did the work of ten men, but even that didn’t break him.
“But even though Meeme fought like a madman and chopped at the iron men like lightning, that did nothing to stop
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